What's wrong
by relaxovision
Summary: Rachel searches through her locker and wonders why Quinn won't support her decision to marry Finn.


I'm ignoring all car crashes that may or may not have happened and I will continue to do so until Quinn's back on my screen.

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><p>It's been three days, one hour and thirty-four minutes since Rachel asked Quinn to be her bridesmaid and Quinn rejected her.<p>

"You're not mature enough." she said.

Nonsense.

"You're ruining your life." she said.

How?

"You're only going through with this, because you said you would and now you don't want to seem like a coward. For you it's just another point you have to prove."

That actually stung a little.

"But Rachel," Quinn had started chewing on her lower lip then. It was something she rarely did when she knew someone was watching and Rachel even believed she was the only one who understood this little habit. "The only thing you're really proving with this is that you're not ready to make this commitment. Please, just consider it."

Rachel had counted five uncomfortable seconds while fumbling with the hem of her cardigan and staring at her feet.

One.

But I do love Finn.

Two.

She's wrong.

Three.

I'm going to lose him.

Four.

I'm not immature.

Five.

"You're wrong. I appreciate your honesty, but if you think I'm going to cancel my wedding just because you think I'm not ready then I'm sorry. I guess I'll have to find myself a new best friend."

Best friend.

Had she really sad this?

She opens her locker and places her biology book next to a pile of notebooks full of sheet music. There are a couple of yellow post-its sticking out from all sides of the pile. All of them contain song and lyrics suggestions from Quinn. Rachel has a habit of ignoring advice. No, that's actually not correct. She does listen to advice, especially the musical kind. She listens carefully, writes everything down on a sheet of paper and then carefully disposes of it and does whatever it is she wanted to do in the first place. Because it's important to take note of what other people have to say. In the world of Rachel Berry every opinion has its place; that place is in a trash can.

Quinn's suggestions somehow always make it to her personal notes, though, the ones she ponders on, the ones she uses as inspiration, be it positive or negative. The post-its contain quite a lot of criticism, actually, harsh criticism. Someone who doesn't know Quinn would surely wonder why anyone would keep these notes. But Rachel knows Quinn. And Rachel knows that Quinn likes to push her to her boundaries and when she does and Rachel lets her, magic happens. On her emotional edge she'll have to come to a shrieking halt in order not to fall off the cliff. When she starts feeling dizzy, when she can't bring herself to lean over and look down, when she can already feel gravity pulling her into a dangerous pit, that's when she writes her best songs. Because true songs are born from true emotion. Rachel may wave Quinn off most of the time, but if you'd ask her to be honest she'd tell you that secretly she's looking forward to be pushed to the extreme once more.

She pulls out a pencil from her case and writes one more note:

"Don't marry Finn."

She stares at it and her mind is blank. She's not quite there, yet.

And Quinn is wrong.

The paper crackles in her palm as she squeezes it tight and lets it carelessly slip through her fingers on to the floor.

That's not what she was searching for. That's not an inspiration.

Her gaze wanders through her locker. There's a picture of her dads in front of their piano at home. Rachel's not sure if they taught her to love music or if that's always been meant to be a part of her. After all, Shelby carries the musical gene as well - Shelby, who's picture is significantly smaller than that of her dads and is basically just an impersonal headshot at the bottom of the locker's door.

Should she invite Shelby to the wedding?

Would she bring Beth?

Maybe it's better if Quinn doesn't come.

There's also a picture of her and Quinn from prom night. She took it towards the end of the night when everybody had calmed down a little. Quinn had felt terrible for slapping Rachel and apologized over and over again until Rachel got embarrassed about it. She wanted to leave and search for Jesse, but Quinn had held her back. "Just because our dates have decided to be immature brats tonight that doesn't mean we can't enjoy the rest of the evening. What do you say?"

She had said 'yes', because she was already dressed up anyway and Kurt needed all his friends around and a part of her was mad at Jesse for ruining their date.

And also Quinn was right.

And Finn is her life.

She searches through her books until she finds what she was looking for: math. She'll probably never understand why that's a mandatory subject. Grabbing the book she attempts to shut her locker when a book mark slips from between the pages and falls to the floor next to Quinn's advice. Rachel immediately smiles as she remembers how Quinn gave her the marker for her last birthday. It was actually a book, a poem collection and Quinn hadn't 'given' it to Rachel, but instead dropped it on to her lap before Glee on her way through to her seat in the back row. The mumbled "Happy birthday" that came with it had been barely audible.

She picks up the marker and her eyes linger on the scrambled piece of paper next to it just long enough to make her think again.

"Don't marry Finn."

But Quinn is wrong.

And Finn is her life.

She turns the marker in her hand and reads the little poem printed on its back: A poison tree by William Blake.***** She doesn't have to guess why Quinn gave it to her; she knows. And it tugs on her heart. That birthday, even though Quinn would without a doubt deny everything, was the true start of their friendship. That was the day when Rachel knew they'd be close one day.

Stuffing the book and the marker into her bag Rachel stares into her locker once more. She'd always hoped she'd be friends with Quinn and she'd always looked up to her. The slushies and the insults could never truly hurt her. In fact, the second she received her first facial and ice-cold liquid ran down her cheeks she had known that Quinn hated herself more than she hated Rachel. From then on every interaction with the cheerleader had been a confirmation.

"You're spending so much time thinking about me." Rachel had said to her the night of the prom, when everybody else had left already and they were still dancing, unwilling to let the night end and face the cold harsh reality of the next day. "I don't understand why your whole life seems to revolve around me when you've got so much to deal with. You need to forget about Finn. You need to be happy."

For a second Rachel had expected to be slapped again, but as so oftentimes before, Quinn surprised her with her answer: "I know."

Sometimes Rachel thinks that Quinn pushes herself just as hard as she pushes Rachel. And whenever she finds the edge of the cliff she's terrified of falling and it's only this fear that makes her come to her senses.

She slams the door of her locker shut and suddenly finds herself staring right into hazel eyes.

"Oh my god, Quinn. You scared me." she gasps.

"Sorry."

Quinn uncharacteristically scuffs the tip of her foot before looking up again. And she's biting her lip so Rachel immediately knows she's got to choose her words carefully now.

"I was on my way to class." It's all she can say without sounding upset.

"We're friends, right?"

Rachel's a little taken aback by those words. Never before has Quinn referred to them as friends. "Kind of" was the closest she'd gotten. "Of course." She knows better than to hesitate.

Her eyes search Quinn's face and only find confusion. Quinn is scared; just what's she so scared of?

"You shouldn't marry Finn." she says.

Rachel huffs and it's too hard to hide her disappointment so she doesn't even try. "I'm sorry, but if you can't support me then I don't know what to tell you anymore."

"Tell me why it's so important to you to marry so soon. Tell me how that would not ruin your life."

Quinn's voice breaks and Rachel gulps. She has hundred of good reasons, hundreds of reasons she's pondered on, hundreds of reasons that all basically include the fear of losing Finn – hundreds of reasons that just won't make sense in this very moment.

She shakes her head to clear her mind and instead of a reply she barks out:

"I don't understand why you can't be my friend. I thought we've been finally through this. I'm not mad at you for anything you did to me in the past, because I know life's been pretty hard for you, too and maybe that was even the reason for you to be mean to me. But every time I think we've worked things out you throw me a curveball. One day you thank me, the next day you insult me. You tell me you don't care and then you always come back to me and I don't understand why."

Quinn looks terrified now. Her eyes are wide and her cheeks are pale. Rachel doesn't understand a thing and she's sick of playing games. She's sick of Quinn's revolving doors in and out of their friendship. It's her marriage, her life and she wants Quinn be part of that.

"Just what's wrong with you?"

Hazel eyes shift nervously, searching Rachel's face. There's a long pause and they both stand there frozen in place.

And just when Rachel's sure that Quinn will turn around and run away she leaps forward and pushes Rachel farther than she's ever been.

Rachel crashes into her locker as she feels Quinn's full weight pressed against her. If she didn't know it better, if she didn't feel like her brain had just dissolved and taken all her knowledge about reality and dream right with it, she'd think that Quinn Fabray is kissing her, mouth and eyes clenched shut, fists boring into Rachel's stomach.

"That's what's wrong with me."

Standing on the edge Rachel feels light headed as she watches Quinn hurry away through the hallway. Her fingertips lightly touch her lower lip and it sends a shock through her veins right into her heart. Dizziness is threatening to overwhelm her and it makes her smile, because she knows she's there. It's time to stop.

This is what pure emotion tastes like.

And Finn is not her life.

He's not even in her locker.

* * *

><p><strong>*<strong>A poison tree by William Blake

I was angry with my friend;  
>I told my wrath, my wrath did end.<br>I was angry with my foe:  
>I told it not, my wrath did grow.<p>

And I watered it in fears,  
>Night &amp; morning with my tears:<br>And I sunned it with smiles,  
>And with soft deceitful wiles.<p>

And it grew both day and night.  
>Till it bore an apple bright.<br>And my foe beheld it shine,  
>And he knew that it was mine.<p>

And into my garden stole,  
>When the night had veiled the pole;<br>In the morning glad I see;  
>My foe outstretched beneath the tree.<p> 


End file.
